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That Monday Heather stayed home from school and while her father was at work, me, Heather and the FBI picked up all her personal belongs and moved her into one of our spare bedrooms. That evening me and the FBI returned to Heather's old home and confronted her father. We explained very clearly that if he were to ever even attempt to contact Heather without her permission he would find himself behind bars so fast even his shadow wouldn't be able to keep up. Then with the FBI standing right there, I hit the bastard with a full, roundhouse, haymaker knocking him flat on his ass, "That's for Heather, you sick bastard," I told him and then we left.Apparently Vicky had said something to Heather because right after Heather moved in she started making sure she kissed me at least, but not limited to, once a day. And they weren't those little pecks on the lips or cheek things either. They were full blown, tongue down the throat, curl your toes, and stiffen your groin type kisses. When I. That would have meant she would already be free and out on the streets a free woman.It was all too obvious that the jury did not believe her contention that she had accidently killed her husband in a strange quirk of fate that left him bleeding to death on the white fluffy carpet.Married at eighteen to a man with a violent past, she was in love with her husband, Mike, even though he didn't hesitate to yank down her panties and wallop her backside whenever he thought she had done something an obedient wife should not have done. All of their friends and relatives knew of his violent tendencies and the lawyers wanted to use that to formulate a viable "self-defense" strategy to offset the prosecution's case. In retrospect, she admitted she should have gone along with the lawyer's gut reaction but she wanted to merely stick to her own sense of truth and claim that she didn't intend to shoot her husband and it was all a big misunderstanding.Dolly remembered distinctly that she was cleaning.
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